Enchantress
by Unsung Heroine
Summary: “…love never was an easy matter for me.” Haleth’s recollections of life with and without Caranthir and a relationship caught between desire and reason. Oneshot, and thus complete.


**Summary: **"…love never was an easy matter for me." Haleth's recollections of life with and without Caranthir and a relationship caught between desire and reason. One-shot, and thus complete.

**Note: **Spell-check somehow was unwilling to co-operate with me this time. I've re-read this piece several times but still it would be very nice of you to inform me if you should find any spelling mistakes. Thank you:-)

**Disclaimer: **Tolkien owns them all. Caranthir now starts ranting about the fact that he finds it a very sick idea indeed, that anyone at all should think they were owning him, a son of Feanor, a Calaquende of Valinor, a... So please wait a moment until I've locked him into the bathroom...

* * *

And sometimes you just gotta let love go,  
Even though it's hurting, even though…

_Heather Nova – River of Life_ (1)

* * *

**Enchantress**

_Who are you stranger? Who are you, who still haunts my waking dreams? Just some eager phantom of the past dogging my footsteps when what I should do is look forward, move on and no more dream of you? _

_Are you real at all?_

* * *

I should have known it would not be that easy to forget him.

I should have known that fleeing West would not erase the past few years, nor dim the memories of my time in Thargelion. I should have known that even ruling my own lands would not chase away the thoughts of him, nor stop the images appearing before my eyes when the nights were cold and lonely. I should have known that the sun shining down on the birches of Brethil was the same that shone over his lands, as were the stars and the moon and the wind stirring the leaves. Sometimes it still smelled like the Ered Luin. Or so I fancied.

I cried the first night after I had left Estolad. I cried for him, for me, for everything that could have been and never would be. I cried until the tears smeared the paint around my eyes and black little rivulets ran down my cheeks. I cried because I knew we would never see each other again, not in this world, because we were leaving each other to a more than uncertain fate and most of all I cried because I knew exactly the necessity of our parting, the inevitability of our sundering, the non-existence of an option that would not end in sorrow for the both of us. Yes, I had acted reasonably, as if our impending ultimate farewell would hardly affect me at all, had bereaved him of all of his illusions (and mine), that what we had would not, could not, _may_ not be and yet I cried for what I had lost and for what he had lost and for what we had taken from each other. It was one of the few times I ever really cried in my life, one of these few really bad times I can actually count on the fingers of one hand, you can bet that.

I know now that most of all I cried for the fact I had become a slave to reason.

* * *

It is a fact that this world loses its magic swiftly, even when you are not much more than a mere twenty years old and vibrant with youth. At the time that I met Caranthir, young Haleth who feared to walk the forest alone and could find enchantment in anything and everything around her had already nearly all but vanished. I remember this to make me sad and angry at the same time. "I want to be scared of the wild woods again", I longed to tell him, "I want the wind to sing songs to me once more and see the shadows walking in the mist." I longed to muffle my screams against his shoulders as I cried and mourned for my lost innocence. But I could not do so back then. I had just, if all too fast, become a leader of my people and I fought fiercely against the little creature inside of me that wanted to admit weakness. And so while innerly I was kicking and squirming like an unruly child at the situation I found myself in, on the outside I kept up the facade and composure of Haleth, daughter of Haldad, the Lady of the Haladin and as strong and sturdy as iron. When I am honest I hated myself for it.

Later, when I looked back I found in this one of many ways I tried to explain why I felt so attracted to him then. For was he not a living proof that magic still existed in this world? Did he not come from a land where trees shone with light and the Lady of the Stars and the Lord of the Winds sat high upon Mount Oiolosse to hold vigil over these forsaken lands beyond the sea? Did not countless shadows walk in the woods of Orome among fleeting shafts of golden light under trees that did not die and if it was not so - what sense then remained in feeling joy about living? (2)

* * *

Life at Rerir felt strange to me in every aspect, thoroughly different from everything I was used to: The people there tall and beautiful without exception, men and women alike, expensive tapestries decorated the walls, lavish feasting on nearly every evening and in the midst of it all I; a strange girl, small and pale-skinned with a weird hair colour and greyish-blue eyes. I was a curiosity, the exotic counterpart to their world, for I carried the scent of the East-wind and on my lips dwelled the promise of lands far away.

I guess partially he was attracted to that strangeness, as much as he was attracted to my youth, my vigour, my unwithered spirit and that in no less way than I was attracted to him, his lordly appearance and otherworldly beauty. Indeed it was always hard to decide who now was the moth - and who the candle.

Whatever it was, it turned out to be mutual. The winds that swept the lands of Thargelion quickly fanned the glowing embers, the dry grass caught fire and soon the very fields around us seemed to be bursting in flame, flames, that we sought desperately to conceal, but as much as we tried to, who could have missed the spark in our eyes?

Of course my people knew, and those who did not at least suspected. After all it had been my father who had taught them to be always perceptive, always well aware of their surroundings and as much as my mind (and his, too) tried to deny it, how could they miss the fleeting glances, the whispered words, the stolen touches as if completely coincidently, but never so?

And his people, his people knew, too, I think. In any case, his brothers did without a doubt. You can accuse a son of Feanor of everything, but never of being dim-witted, mind yourself. The blond one I guess knew from the beginning. (3)

"I see, you have caught something better", he once told me when we were hunting. He had challenged me to chase down a deer and I had accepted but quickly forgot the hunt, the deer and everything around me, when I came across Caranthir in a small secluded glade and the world stopped to matter for one precious moment.

He and I, we lived for these moments then, when we were truly alone and no one aware of us. Then we could still pretend of this to be our secret, though it probably ceased being a matter of secrecy a good deal of time ago.

After all there were rumours enough about the nature of our relationship and among them the one that I had bewitched him with some ancient magic practised by the women of my people when we still dwelt East of the mountains. Of course that was nonsense. I know of no such magic.

Sometimes he would call me his enchantress, though.

* * *

"You are beautiful", he would say, running his long fingers through my hair and I would wonder what made him like it so much, coarse, wind-blown and of undefined colour as it was; such a strong contrast to his shining strands of dark silk, a ten times more beautiful than mine.

"It fits you", he would say. "Wild and unruly."

I had to smile back then, though to be honest I was not thoroughly fond of my role as the barbaric warrior princess he sometimes seemed to view me as. It made me feel like I was nothing more for him than an exotic prize won by warfare.

"You are beautiful."

I never really believed him. How could he find me beautiful, the plain Edain girl, when even his chambermaids seemed so much fairer to me than the most exceptional women of my people?

"They bore me", he would say, "this incredibly annoying state of perfectness", and again I would not believe him. How could he say such things, when in my eyes he was a picture of perfectness, the only thing presumably missing the crown of the High-kingship atop of his head? For kingly he appeared to me then and should so for all the years that I knew him.

And "I love you", he would say and "no" I would answer. "You love the idea of me. Of living shortly and leaving without regrets" and "Perhaps I do", he would say and he would talk no further. And "I love you" I would say and I would love the idea of him, of living ages upon ages and shedding tears with no end for all the sweet sorrows of the world weighing upon my fragile shoulders and I would love the thought of it, though I did not understand why. For in secret I would weep for the joy of living and the fact that I would not last long enough for it to torment me.

* * *

Our relationship was odd to say the least.

People tend to think the biggest obstacle that stood between us was the fact of us being from different races, but I like to contradict them in that, for it was not.

If anything, it was the fact we were both so similar to each other. Both stubborn to the core and gifted with pride either inherited or acquired during years of experience - neither of us really knew.

Our traits of character did not make it any easier for us. My stupid fits of pride, his sudden spurts of anger, his at times unbearable haughtiness and the fact I simply could not hold my tongue.

In a strange way, we both had found our perfect match.

There were nights when we lay by each other's side confiding the most intimate things to each other, and others, when after some petty quarrel we would not speak a word; only touch, and taste, and feel and it seemed not to matter, was enough even, and nothing more was desired.

There were times, when we would avert our faces during conversations but also those when words were not needed at all for our eyes would tell everything there was to say.

There were days when when we shunned each other, days when the most harmless conversations turned into the most horrible arguments, days when I despised him and he despised me and we both despised ourselves most of all. There never was room for compromises among the both of us, mediocrity an entire foreign concept.

But when night came and shadows crept slowly over the wide lands of Dor Caranthir those things became of no matter at all. Then we would lie in his bed facing each other, legs entangled and hands intertwined, lost in each other's eyes. It may sound strange, but sometimes we spent whole nights like this, neither of us speaking or moving.

I like to think that then I began to understand why Elu Thingol never left the shadowy woods after he had met Melian and I wished for the sun to never come out again. Then he would tell me of Cuiviénen, where the elves first awoke and he would say that if he could he would take me there, to a place beneath the stars where the sun never rises. And then we would dress in deer-skin and hunt our food in the woods and roast rabbits over a small fire by the lake-shore. Then he paused for a moment and laughed, saying that this was ridiculous.

I loved the thought of it. I loved the thought of him being so helplessly romantic in my eyes, when in reality neither of us was. But at that place and at that time, beneath the innumerable stars of a late summer's sky it almost felt real, almost believable, almost like love… but how different it was most of the day-time! For slaves to reason we both were, fools confronted with desire that we did not allow us to fall victim to, strangers that shared one bed and yet were not able to love with their whole heart and soul and being - and loners, that desperately wished that they could.

It was only when we parted, that I realized what I had forfeited. And I think he did so, too.

I still treasure the memory of that night, though, one of the few times I actually heard him laugh and I remember that I loved it. In fact I loved it so much that afterwards I found myself several times desperately trying to make him do so once more.

At times like this it seemed odd how we were never really able to open up to each other, how we both kept acting as if there was more to lose then just a bit of our pride. Truth is, we both had adept skills in hiding our true selves from each other and though we tried our best to do so, we still were never really strong when the other was around and never really sure whether to relish or to fear the very fact.

Sometimes I found myself wondering how in all the world we could bear being around each other at all. How it came that no matter what had occured during the day, we would find ourselves underneath the same sheets at night.

At that time I fancied to believe that it was because we were all that was left to each other in this world. Who were we after all but orphaned children groping blindly for a foothold in this world? Later I knew that it was much more simple, much more basic. He was a man, I was a woman, we both were alone. That sounds pretty reasonable, does it not?

And after all, was it not ourselves who were to blame for the fact that there had been no more than that? Or do I keep telling myself this only for the fact that his absence seems to hurts less when I think of it that way?

* * *

So then, did I ever love him? To answer this question, first, you must know that love never was an easy matter for me. Indeed there are some who cannot seem to refrain from spreading the rumour that the only person Haleth of the Haladin ever loved was _herself_.

Indeed I remember telling myself that a woman like me should not fall so easily for the next beautiful man to come around. But I also remember one night in Thargelion when I awoke and saw him sleeping beside me, lying on his side, his face buried in the crook of his elbow, half-veiled by a curtain of dark hair. He looked suddenly so very young, almost childlike, almost vulnerable and in that moment I was very much in love.

I was in love when we met in that glade, was in love when he suddenly stood before me on the plains of Estolad, was in love everytime I could watch him sleep.

I had once been told that the Eldar do not feel the cold as keenly as mortals do and that they do not need as much sleep. Yet I soon found out that Caranthir relished in the luxury of sleeping late into the day when he had the possibility to do so, nestled comfortably in a ridiculous amount of pillows and blankets and I loved to be held in his arms then, tracing idle patterns on his skin and whispering endearments in my mother-tongue into his ears.

I yearned for the "forever" then, for the happily-ever-after that I so fiercely denied us both.

Yet still, still I went and left him, for the fates of our people remain sundered and there is nothing we can do to change this. Yes, it might have been joyous for a while; beautiful like the fleeting spendour of spring, yet it would have been no good in the end. Not for him and not for me.

Did it hurt? Yes, it did. It hurt a lot in fact. And yet I still do believe I did the right thing. For the both of us. That did not make it easier though.

And yet, if anyone would ask me now, I would still tell him it is wrong that our two kindrerds should mingle, though it would feel like a betrayal to me, a denial of the one magic moment when we stood in the wilderness of Beleriand staring dumb-foundedly at each other as if just confronted with the most strange and exotic creature imaginable. Which for me at least was pretty close to the truth, for the tall Elf standing in front of me was no humble Laiquende of Beleriand of whose like I had seen many, but a Noldor of the Blessed Realm with a kingly lineage and the light of Valinor in his eyes.

And though perhaps betrayal it would be, there is one thing I know for sure:

I may have betrayed him once, there will be no second betrayal anymore. There will be no daughter and no son of Haleth and no man at my side after I was allowed to taste his lips on mine. Our's will be a story untold and a legend forgotten, an epic of past mistakes and present follies that in few score years no one will remember. I will have to be content with that. I for my part shall never forget him.

For I was fine and more or less content and - though not always easy - life seemed simple to me then, until he came and showed me it was not so like you tell someone that the sun has been shining today, granting us both a glimpse of what we were not allowed to have and lingering forever on my mind.

* * *

_Who are you stranger? Who are you, who still haunts my waking dreams…?_

_Were you real at all?_

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

(1) I'm usually no big friend of quoting modern-day pop-music in stories that obviously take place in a complete different context, such as Beleriand in the First Age of the Sun. Yet that song fits their relationship so nicely that I simply couldn't resist.

(2) You might have noticed that Haleth knows quite much of Valinor for a mortal woman of that time, but I do think that does indeed make some sense considering her dealings with Caranthir. He might also have been the one to teach her Quenya (which she tells Finrod she speaks a little in _"In the Woods of Brethil"_). Reading HoMe I just realized that would make her speak with that infamous Feanorian lisp, a fact which somehow I tend to find quite funny indeed.

(3) "The blond one": Haleth means Celegorm. And yes, I'm going here with the assumption that "The Fair" relates to his hair colour.

**More A/N:**

Blame it on Haleth, that I spent a wonderful summer-day with just the right weather to go for a swim in front of my PC in my tiny, hot appartment typing fan-fic. She just would not shut up. She may also contradict herself a little in this story, I think, but what, with all her contradictive relationship to Caranthir that should not come as much of a surprise, right?

Feedback would be nice and greatly appreciated. Due to new policy I won't be answering reviews at the end of my story anymore. If you would like an answer to your review, which I'll gladly give (reviews make me happy!), make sure to leave your e-mail address somewhere for me and I'll answer in no time. Or in little time. ;-)

Oh, and much thanks to everyone who reviewed my other stories in the recent time:-)


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